SPN Big Bang 2011 - Where the Wind Blows - Part 5
Reverse to PART 4
To get to Dr. Lewis' house, they had to drive out of the winding driveway, out of the creepy Latin-inscribed gate, and then follow the road out to the fork about a mile out, and then turn to the right, following the road into her private property. Total miles spent driving; about ten. Time spent getting into the car and out the garage and finishing the entire journey; fifteen, twenty minutes easy.
Element of surprise; none.
Instead, they borrowed George's golf cart to drive through the garden and over the wide expanse of grass. Her property was fenced and gated, but George had a key, which he reluctantly turned over to them. The entire expedition to her house took ten minutes, max. It prevented George, Trinity and Skylar from following them, since there was only one cart. The Frances tried hard to tag along, but Dean wouldn't let them, claiming they were distractions at best and possible hostages at worst.
Dr. Lewis' house was not as big as the Frances' house, with an air of eeriness about it. The exterior dark walls were creepy enough, and the surroundings were no better, with the tall abundant trees and the stillness. They went up to the front door and knocked, but no one answered. They peered through the windows but the curtains were drawn shut and thick enough to prevent them from seeing inside. So they did what any self-respecting ghost hunter did - they broke in.
“We are sure that Dr. Lewis is the one sending all the spirits right? 'Cause she looks like she won't take it well if we are wrong,” Dean whispered to Sam as he worked on picking the lock.
“The arguments, the resentment, the fact that she was Michael Surry's sister and that she's the only outsider who knows we're even here, yeah, I'd say we've got a pretty good case that she's the one,” Sam whispered back, as Dean finally had the door unlocked. They swung it open as gently as possible.
The whole of the first floor was dark, and uninviting. The furniture dotting the area lent an air of menace, as though it could come alive any second. Just as they were walking towards the kitchen, they heard thumping, and following the sound, they discovered that it came from the basement.
Dean rolled his eyes. How typical.
Dean wished for a case where a witch would be brewing the evil potions and killing the poor rabbits right there in a brightly lit kitchen.
Mindful that they couldn't barge into the basement without making a lot of noise and alerting Dr. Lewis, they opted to creep in as quiet as they could. They opened the door to the basement, Dean thankful that it didn't creak to give themselves away. When he flailed his arm around it connected with a railing, and he thanked the higher powers - wherever He was - for rich people who had regular maintenance. Tugging Sam's shirt, he led them down the stairs, wary of every step he took and kept his ears out for sudden silence.
They reached the landing, and it was still pitch dark, no sign of a source of light anywhere. Dean decided to risk switching on his flashlight, keeping the beam down to his and Sam's shoes as near as possible, so that they wouldn't trip and break their necks.
Sam followed suit. As they were about to shine the space in front of them, they heard a noise at the back of the staircase, a thump and a clunk and fuck, British-accented.
Bingo.
Knowing that his brother would be right behind him, Dean turned to the source of the sound and walked carefully, aware of any noise. He wanted to switch on the lights, because they would be fighting soon enough, and it'll be even more difficult to finish this if he was tripping over the cauldron.
They had maneuvered softly for about ten yards when the light above them switched on.
“It's a little childish, isn't it, to walk around in the dark, Misters Winchester?” The voice was crisp and cold, and after blinking in the brightness Dean saw Dr. Lewis standing by the wall beside the light switch, face set in a tight smile.
Dean looked at Sam and Sam looked at Dean, and then shrugged and turned back to the British professor. “Well, this is easier than expected.”
Dr. Lewis laughed. “On the contrary, I think I'll be a more difficult foe than you think.”
Dean wrinkled his nose, and faced Sam while mouthing, foe?
Sam just rolled his eyes and addressed Dr. Lewis, watching her warily and keeping his hands out where she could see them. “You do know that we can't just let you go, right?”
Dr. Lewis shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “Did you get the welcome gift I left for both of you?”
Welcome gift? I knew it.
“The nightmares? That was you?” Dean exclaimed. Sam turned to him, frowning.
There was a cold smile on Dr. Lewis' face. “Just a little subconscious imprint that I left for the next person who would be spending the night there.”
“It was pretty annoying, like one of those flies hovering around that you want to swat off,” Dean said, “I was wondering why I slept better in the hotel room.” He paused, spotting a black pot in the middle of the area. “Is that an honest-to-god witch pot over there?”
“It's a cauldron, you uncouth idiot,” Dr. Lewis hissed, showing true anger as she pushed herself from the wall.
“Pot, cauldron, no difference,” Dean shot back, pointing his Glock to the only female in the room. “You stay there, nice and quiet, and maybe we won't kill you.”
“I don't think so,” she smiled, and raised her voice. “ATTACK!”
Something pulled Dean backwards onto the ground.
Being attacked in the homes of the filthy rich had its advantages, Dean reflected, as his back hit the carpeted floor. It was not that painful when he was being thrown around.
A similar thud told Dean that Sam was getting the same treatment. Just as he was getting his senses back, a long, thin face loomed over him, wearing a cruel smile. It was annoying, so he kicked in her direction. He didn't usually hit women, but for this one he would make an exception.
She went down with a yelp, and Dean got up. He glanced at his brother, who mirrored his movements and was already walking across the room towards a table that looked like an altar.
Satisfied that the altar was going down, Dean focused his attentions to Dr. Lewis. She was reaching towards the pot, oh sorry, cauldron. He scrambled to grab her leg, but she was faster and managed to get her feet under her. With surprising strength, she picked up the cauldron and splashed the contents in Dean's face.
Dean ducked, and mostly avoided the liquid, except for a few drops spilling on his arm as he lifted them to protect his face. The heat stung him for a second, but it didn't stop him. He seized the moment to use his head as a ram. Luckily, the wall he was crashing into was just muscle.
There was a not-so-distant crash, which Dean thought to have come from the direction of the altar, but he was too busy trying not to let Dr. Lewis get a hold of his hair. Just as he pinned her under his body, there was a clatter of footsteps, and he looked up to see all three members of the Frances coming down the stairs in a rush.
Uh-oh. This could get complicated.
“Damn it, why are they here!?”
Sam heard his brother curse and he straightened up, the ruined altar at his feet. He saw George, Trinity and Skylar coming down the stairs and running towards them.
He echoed Dean's words to the family. “Why the hell are you here?”
“We thought we could help. What are you doing?” George answered, directing his question to Dean, who was seated astride the fallen professor-slash-witch.
Sam was just about to answer when he was tugged violently behind, and he crashed onto the wall. Unfortunately, the wall had no carpeting, so it was as painful as ever. But he’d had worse.
“Oh my God, Sam, are you all right?” Trinity rushed to his side, hands out but not touching him as though she was afraid she was going to hurt him further. Sam groaned but shook his head. He was getting up when Dr. Lewis screamed and Dean went flying to the opposite wall, and Sam could hear a soft curse trailing the trajectory.
“Holy shit, Sue, what the hell are you doing?” George yelled, still rooted to the floor where Sam had seen him last. Dr. Lewis, who by now was standing ramrod straight, let out a shriek of laughter that raised the little hairs on Sam's neck.
He ignored it, as he eyed a book that had fallen on the floor near him. It might be the spell book, and there could be something in there to counter or end the spell. He reached out slowly, avoiding sudden movements, and snagged the book. As fast as he dared to, he thumbed through the pages, still listening in to the conversation that was going on.
“What I am doing, George,” she says, after she finished laughing, “is to get you to love me, and pay attention to me as much as you do to your kids! Is that so much to ask?”
“Are you insane, woman?” George shouted, fear and anger mixing, “they are my children! Of course I pay more attention to them. They're my family!”
“That's exactly it! It's always about family for you. You never noticed me when your wife was alive. It was all Sharon baby, Sharon honey, Sharon sweetheart. I tried to get you into a conversation whenever I would visit, and it wouldn't last five minutes before you start talking about your precious little wife!”
George paled. “What are you saying, Sue?”
Dr. Lewis steamrolled over his question. “You even wanted to buy over Michael's land for her. Do you know how difficult it was to get rid of his wife because she was in the way?
George looked sickened at that declaration. “You killed Madeline? You... you killed Michael too? He's not in LA?”
Dr. Lewis' mouth twisted into a scary grin. “What do you think?”
“But why!?”
“He was in the way!” Dr. Lewis yelled again, causing Sam to glance over to make sure she hadn't spot his actions. She seemed to have forgotten all about him and Dean, which was good. They would take any advantage they were given. In his peripheral Dean was inching closer to her, body tensed.
Sam doubled his efforts to find the counter-spell, at the same time tuning back into the confrontation.
“...keep going on about the garden, and I tried persuading him to sell it, but he didn't want to, until I got that spell to make him do my bidding.” Dr. Lewis sounded smug. She continued, “After that it was easy to push him to sell the land to you and make him disappear.”
“You sent those spirits to my daughter?”
“I'm losing out to your her!” Dr. Lewis growled, focusing on George this time. “You gave her a diamond bracelet and I got a measly watch that's less than half the cost. She doesn't appreciate you like I do!”
“Did you kill my mother too?” Skylar cut into the conversation, his voice soft, a sharp contrast to the previous screaming. He was staring at Dr. Lewis, and Trinity, who was crouching beside Sam, had gone still as a statue.
Dr. Lewis turned to him, eyes bright with madness. “Your mother was wrong for your father, Skylar, surely you could see that! I'm good for him, for all of you!”
“You bitch!” Without warning, Trinity lunged at Dr. Lewis, knocking the older woman to the ground.
This was the moment Sam was waiting for, because three minutes ago he had just found the spell he was looking for, hidden near the last pages of the book. The first part of the counter-spell was to spill the potion onto the caster - which Dr. Lewis herself had done - and the second part was to recite the Latin counter-spell out loud, while holding onto the person who cast the spell.
In tandem Dean and Sam launched themselves onto the two grappling females on the floor. Sam pinned the professor's body to the floor using his own. Dean took hold of Trinity's waist and lifted her right off Dr. Lewis. He all but threw her into George's arms, then grabbed on to Dr. Lewis' right arm. while Sam held on to the left.
“Now, Sam!” Dean yelled, and Sam began reciting the spell as fast and as accurately as he could, while struggling to keep hold of the thrashing body beside him. The spell wasn't long, thankfully, and as Sam spoke the last word, the whole room was filled with a shrieking sound, too high-pitched to be human. It grated on Sam, and he fought not to let go of the witch to cover his ears, and while everyone else in the room but Dean did.
The shrieking stopped. For a second no one moved, and then he heard Skylar whisper, “Oh my God.”
He turned to Skylar who was looking down at Dr. Lewis, on the floor beside him, her eyes bulging and her mouth opened in mimicry of a scream. Her ears were bleeding, as was her mouth, a thin trickle dripping from down towards her chin. It was pretty obvious that she was dead, but Sam felt for her pulse just to be sure.
There wasn't any. She was dead.
“Oh shit, what should we do?” George muttered, turning panicked eyes to Sam.
“We gotta call the police,” Trinity, who had stopped struggling.
Sam looked over to Dean, who shrugged, and turned back to George. “Yes, that's a good idea, but George, we can't be here when the police arrives.”
“What? Why? How are we gonna explain this?” Trinity asked with a touch of fear in her voice. Sam understood her reaction.
Dean shook his head. “The police don’t believe in the Supernatural. We don’t get along very well. Tell them you heard a scream, and you found her like this. Don't touch anything else, and for the love of God, don't say we're here.”
“Okay, okay, you guys get out. Take the cart back. I'm going to call the cops now,” George said, and took out his phone. The Winchesters got the hell out of there.
A couple of minutes later, when they were safely in the cart heading back to the Frances', Dean voiced out what was on both their minds. “Do you think George and the kids would be able to pull it off?”
“I hope so,” Sam said with feeling, and the rest of the journey was done in silence.
Twelve hours later
Dean slammed the trunk of the Impala close. The day was bright, the case was solved, and they were driving away from the house in the next five minutes.
It can't get any better than this.
He looked over to where his brother was, talking earnestly with George, who was hanging on to every single word he was saying.
A tug of his hand had him turning his head over to his right, where Skylar was standing. The boy looked pale, but had a small, genuine smile gracing his face. He let go of Dean's jacket's sleeve and held out his hand. "Thank you for all that you've done for us."
Dean clasped the smaller hand in his own. "That's all right. Make sure you keep our number with you, let us know if anything else happens."
"I will."
Trinity came to stand beside Skylar, leaning slightly against her brother. She looked as pale as he did, but not angry. The family were either really forgiving people, or it hadn't all sunk in yet.
“How are you holding up?” Dean asked her. It couldn't be easy, finding out your mother might be murdered because of another woman's jealousy, and seeing said woman die in front of you, all on the same day.
Trinity took a deep breath. “I think it hasn't sunk in yet,” she confessed and paused, before she continued, "Dean, thank you. It seems inadequate after what you've done, but there's nothing else that I can say that doesn't sound trite or cliche'd."
"I've heard everything before. Trust me, this is one of the best farewells we've gotten. Usually we’re just hoping to get out of town without anyone noticing us.”
“I won't be getting attacked again after this?” Trinity asked, wanting to make sure.
“No, you shouldn't, but in case you did, you know how to reach us,” Dean said, smiling.
The young woman nodded solemnly to show her understanding, but her eyes were amused. Then she stepped closer, and kissed him on the cheek. Dean was touched, but let the moment passed, and with another short wave both siblings turned to walk towards George and Sam. Dean followed, looking toward George and his brother. Now George was talking, and Sam was the one listening. But as the children reached them, their attentions shifted and after a handshake each from Skylar and Trinity, Sam was striding towards him, George on his heels.
As soon as they were within touching distance, George held out a hand for Dean to shake.
"Thanks for all that you've done for my family."
“Thanks for keeping the police off our tail,” Dean replied. George and his children stuck to the story they had agreed on, and left the Winchesters out of it. The police were still investigating, but George had assured them it wouldn't pose a problem.
“That's the least we can do, after you saved our lives.”
"It's what we do, saving people." Dean repeated what he felt to be the tenth and hopefully the last time. He was becoming uncomfortable with all the thanking. Besides, the money was how he could convey his thanks. Dean was wondering how to bring up that topic.
The head of the Frances family seemed to be reading his thoughts. "Sam has your pay." He tilted his head to the brother in question. "It's all in cash, and I've included a little extra for you."
Dean grinned wider. "That's perfect. We'd best be going now."
"Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope we never see you again."
Sam laughed. "You have our number, just in case."
"Just in case." With that, George waved his goodbye and started back to the front door.
The Winchesters slammed the doors of the Impala at the same time, the noise making Dean ridiculously pleased for no good reason. He started the car, grinned at the purr of the engine, and looked over to Sam lounging on the shotgun seat.
"What were you talking to George so intently about?"
Sam met his eyes, and said, “I was sharing our theory that she might have cursed the land so that nothing can grow on it. I found a spell in the book for that purpose, and also a way to break it. I went to the garden while you were getting the Impala out.”
Dean nodded, turning his eyes back on the road. “And? Did you manage to break it?”
“Yeah. The land should be back to normal now.”
“Awesome.”
A pocket full of cash, an open road, one case solved, another waiting and a wake of laughter thrown to the wind, following the roar of the Impala. It really couldn't get any better that that.
Back to MASTERPOST
To get to Dr. Lewis' house, they had to drive out of the winding driveway, out of the creepy Latin-inscribed gate, and then follow the road out to the fork about a mile out, and then turn to the right, following the road into her private property. Total miles spent driving; about ten. Time spent getting into the car and out the garage and finishing the entire journey; fifteen, twenty minutes easy.
Element of surprise; none.
Instead, they borrowed George's golf cart to drive through the garden and over the wide expanse of grass. Her property was fenced and gated, but George had a key, which he reluctantly turned over to them. The entire expedition to her house took ten minutes, max. It prevented George, Trinity and Skylar from following them, since there was only one cart. The Frances tried hard to tag along, but Dean wouldn't let them, claiming they were distractions at best and possible hostages at worst.
Dr. Lewis' house was not as big as the Frances' house, with an air of eeriness about it. The exterior dark walls were creepy enough, and the surroundings were no better, with the tall abundant trees and the stillness. They went up to the front door and knocked, but no one answered. They peered through the windows but the curtains were drawn shut and thick enough to prevent them from seeing inside. So they did what any self-respecting ghost hunter did - they broke in.
“We are sure that Dr. Lewis is the one sending all the spirits right? 'Cause she looks like she won't take it well if we are wrong,” Dean whispered to Sam as he worked on picking the lock.
“The arguments, the resentment, the fact that she was Michael Surry's sister and that she's the only outsider who knows we're even here, yeah, I'd say we've got a pretty good case that she's the one,” Sam whispered back, as Dean finally had the door unlocked. They swung it open as gently as possible.
The whole of the first floor was dark, and uninviting. The furniture dotting the area lent an air of menace, as though it could come alive any second. Just as they were walking towards the kitchen, they heard thumping, and following the sound, they discovered that it came from the basement.
Dean rolled his eyes. How typical.
Dean wished for a case where a witch would be brewing the evil potions and killing the poor rabbits right there in a brightly lit kitchen.
Mindful that they couldn't barge into the basement without making a lot of noise and alerting Dr. Lewis, they opted to creep in as quiet as they could. They opened the door to the basement, Dean thankful that it didn't creak to give themselves away. When he flailed his arm around it connected with a railing, and he thanked the higher powers - wherever He was - for rich people who had regular maintenance. Tugging Sam's shirt, he led them down the stairs, wary of every step he took and kept his ears out for sudden silence.
They reached the landing, and it was still pitch dark, no sign of a source of light anywhere. Dean decided to risk switching on his flashlight, keeping the beam down to his and Sam's shoes as near as possible, so that they wouldn't trip and break their necks.
Sam followed suit. As they were about to shine the space in front of them, they heard a noise at the back of the staircase, a thump and a clunk and fuck, British-accented.
Bingo.
Knowing that his brother would be right behind him, Dean turned to the source of the sound and walked carefully, aware of any noise. He wanted to switch on the lights, because they would be fighting soon enough, and it'll be even more difficult to finish this if he was tripping over the cauldron.
They had maneuvered softly for about ten yards when the light above them switched on.
“It's a little childish, isn't it, to walk around in the dark, Misters Winchester?” The voice was crisp and cold, and after blinking in the brightness Dean saw Dr. Lewis standing by the wall beside the light switch, face set in a tight smile.
Dean looked at Sam and Sam looked at Dean, and then shrugged and turned back to the British professor. “Well, this is easier than expected.”
Dr. Lewis laughed. “On the contrary, I think I'll be a more difficult foe than you think.”
Dean wrinkled his nose, and faced Sam while mouthing, foe?
Sam just rolled his eyes and addressed Dr. Lewis, watching her warily and keeping his hands out where she could see them. “You do know that we can't just let you go, right?”
Dr. Lewis shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “Did you get the welcome gift I left for both of you?”
Welcome gift? I knew it.
“The nightmares? That was you?” Dean exclaimed. Sam turned to him, frowning.
There was a cold smile on Dr. Lewis' face. “Just a little subconscious imprint that I left for the next person who would be spending the night there.”
“It was pretty annoying, like one of those flies hovering around that you want to swat off,” Dean said, “I was wondering why I slept better in the hotel room.” He paused, spotting a black pot in the middle of the area. “Is that an honest-to-god witch pot over there?”
“It's a cauldron, you uncouth idiot,” Dr. Lewis hissed, showing true anger as she pushed herself from the wall.
“Pot, cauldron, no difference,” Dean shot back, pointing his Glock to the only female in the room. “You stay there, nice and quiet, and maybe we won't kill you.”
“I don't think so,” she smiled, and raised her voice. “ATTACK!”
Something pulled Dean backwards onto the ground.
Being attacked in the homes of the filthy rich had its advantages, Dean reflected, as his back hit the carpeted floor. It was not that painful when he was being thrown around.
A similar thud told Dean that Sam was getting the same treatment. Just as he was getting his senses back, a long, thin face loomed over him, wearing a cruel smile. It was annoying, so he kicked in her direction. He didn't usually hit women, but for this one he would make an exception.
She went down with a yelp, and Dean got up. He glanced at his brother, who mirrored his movements and was already walking across the room towards a table that looked like an altar.
Satisfied that the altar was going down, Dean focused his attentions to Dr. Lewis. She was reaching towards the pot, oh sorry, cauldron. He scrambled to grab her leg, but she was faster and managed to get her feet under her. With surprising strength, she picked up the cauldron and splashed the contents in Dean's face.
Dean ducked, and mostly avoided the liquid, except for a few drops spilling on his arm as he lifted them to protect his face. The heat stung him for a second, but it didn't stop him. He seized the moment to use his head as a ram. Luckily, the wall he was crashing into was just muscle.
There was a not-so-distant crash, which Dean thought to have come from the direction of the altar, but he was too busy trying not to let Dr. Lewis get a hold of his hair. Just as he pinned her under his body, there was a clatter of footsteps, and he looked up to see all three members of the Frances coming down the stairs in a rush.
Uh-oh. This could get complicated.
“Damn it, why are they here!?”
Sam heard his brother curse and he straightened up, the ruined altar at his feet. He saw George, Trinity and Skylar coming down the stairs and running towards them.
He echoed Dean's words to the family. “Why the hell are you here?”
“We thought we could help. What are you doing?” George answered, directing his question to Dean, who was seated astride the fallen professor-slash-witch.
Sam was just about to answer when he was tugged violently behind, and he crashed onto the wall. Unfortunately, the wall had no carpeting, so it was as painful as ever. But he’d had worse.
“Oh my God, Sam, are you all right?” Trinity rushed to his side, hands out but not touching him as though she was afraid she was going to hurt him further. Sam groaned but shook his head. He was getting up when Dr. Lewis screamed and Dean went flying to the opposite wall, and Sam could hear a soft curse trailing the trajectory.
“Holy shit, Sue, what the hell are you doing?” George yelled, still rooted to the floor where Sam had seen him last. Dr. Lewis, who by now was standing ramrod straight, let out a shriek of laughter that raised the little hairs on Sam's neck.
He ignored it, as he eyed a book that had fallen on the floor near him. It might be the spell book, and there could be something in there to counter or end the spell. He reached out slowly, avoiding sudden movements, and snagged the book. As fast as he dared to, he thumbed through the pages, still listening in to the conversation that was going on.
“What I am doing, George,” she says, after she finished laughing, “is to get you to love me, and pay attention to me as much as you do to your kids! Is that so much to ask?”
“Are you insane, woman?” George shouted, fear and anger mixing, “they are my children! Of course I pay more attention to them. They're my family!”
“That's exactly it! It's always about family for you. You never noticed me when your wife was alive. It was all Sharon baby, Sharon honey, Sharon sweetheart. I tried to get you into a conversation whenever I would visit, and it wouldn't last five minutes before you start talking about your precious little wife!”
George paled. “What are you saying, Sue?”
Dr. Lewis steamrolled over his question. “You even wanted to buy over Michael's land for her. Do you know how difficult it was to get rid of his wife because she was in the way?
George looked sickened at that declaration. “You killed Madeline? You... you killed Michael too? He's not in LA?”
Dr. Lewis' mouth twisted into a scary grin. “What do you think?”
“But why!?”
“He was in the way!” Dr. Lewis yelled again, causing Sam to glance over to make sure she hadn't spot his actions. She seemed to have forgotten all about him and Dean, which was good. They would take any advantage they were given. In his peripheral Dean was inching closer to her, body tensed.
Sam doubled his efforts to find the counter-spell, at the same time tuning back into the confrontation.
“...keep going on about the garden, and I tried persuading him to sell it, but he didn't want to, until I got that spell to make him do my bidding.” Dr. Lewis sounded smug. She continued, “After that it was easy to push him to sell the land to you and make him disappear.”
“You sent those spirits to my daughter?”
“I'm losing out to your her!” Dr. Lewis growled, focusing on George this time. “You gave her a diamond bracelet and I got a measly watch that's less than half the cost. She doesn't appreciate you like I do!”
“Did you kill my mother too?” Skylar cut into the conversation, his voice soft, a sharp contrast to the previous screaming. He was staring at Dr. Lewis, and Trinity, who was crouching beside Sam, had gone still as a statue.
Dr. Lewis turned to him, eyes bright with madness. “Your mother was wrong for your father, Skylar, surely you could see that! I'm good for him, for all of you!”
“You bitch!” Without warning, Trinity lunged at Dr. Lewis, knocking the older woman to the ground.
This was the moment Sam was waiting for, because three minutes ago he had just found the spell he was looking for, hidden near the last pages of the book. The first part of the counter-spell was to spill the potion onto the caster - which Dr. Lewis herself had done - and the second part was to recite the Latin counter-spell out loud, while holding onto the person who cast the spell.
In tandem Dean and Sam launched themselves onto the two grappling females on the floor. Sam pinned the professor's body to the floor using his own. Dean took hold of Trinity's waist and lifted her right off Dr. Lewis. He all but threw her into George's arms, then grabbed on to Dr. Lewis' right arm. while Sam held on to the left.
“Now, Sam!” Dean yelled, and Sam began reciting the spell as fast and as accurately as he could, while struggling to keep hold of the thrashing body beside him. The spell wasn't long, thankfully, and as Sam spoke the last word, the whole room was filled with a shrieking sound, too high-pitched to be human. It grated on Sam, and he fought not to let go of the witch to cover his ears, and while everyone else in the room but Dean did.
The shrieking stopped. For a second no one moved, and then he heard Skylar whisper, “Oh my God.”
He turned to Skylar who was looking down at Dr. Lewis, on the floor beside him, her eyes bulging and her mouth opened in mimicry of a scream. Her ears were bleeding, as was her mouth, a thin trickle dripping from down towards her chin. It was pretty obvious that she was dead, but Sam felt for her pulse just to be sure.
There wasn't any. She was dead.
“Oh shit, what should we do?” George muttered, turning panicked eyes to Sam.
“We gotta call the police,” Trinity, who had stopped struggling.
Sam looked over to Dean, who shrugged, and turned back to George. “Yes, that's a good idea, but George, we can't be here when the police arrives.”
“What? Why? How are we gonna explain this?” Trinity asked with a touch of fear in her voice. Sam understood her reaction.
Dean shook his head. “The police don’t believe in the Supernatural. We don’t get along very well. Tell them you heard a scream, and you found her like this. Don't touch anything else, and for the love of God, don't say we're here.”
“Okay, okay, you guys get out. Take the cart back. I'm going to call the cops now,” George said, and took out his phone. The Winchesters got the hell out of there.
A couple of minutes later, when they were safely in the cart heading back to the Frances', Dean voiced out what was on both their minds. “Do you think George and the kids would be able to pull it off?”
“I hope so,” Sam said with feeling, and the rest of the journey was done in silence.
Twelve hours later
Dean slammed the trunk of the Impala close. The day was bright, the case was solved, and they were driving away from the house in the next five minutes.
It can't get any better than this.
He looked over to where his brother was, talking earnestly with George, who was hanging on to every single word he was saying.
A tug of his hand had him turning his head over to his right, where Skylar was standing. The boy looked pale, but had a small, genuine smile gracing his face. He let go of Dean's jacket's sleeve and held out his hand. "Thank you for all that you've done for us."
Dean clasped the smaller hand in his own. "That's all right. Make sure you keep our number with you, let us know if anything else happens."
"I will."
Trinity came to stand beside Skylar, leaning slightly against her brother. She looked as pale as he did, but not angry. The family were either really forgiving people, or it hadn't all sunk in yet.
“How are you holding up?” Dean asked her. It couldn't be easy, finding out your mother might be murdered because of another woman's jealousy, and seeing said woman die in front of you, all on the same day.
Trinity took a deep breath. “I think it hasn't sunk in yet,” she confessed and paused, before she continued, "Dean, thank you. It seems inadequate after what you've done, but there's nothing else that I can say that doesn't sound trite or cliche'd."
"I've heard everything before. Trust me, this is one of the best farewells we've gotten. Usually we’re just hoping to get out of town without anyone noticing us.”
“I won't be getting attacked again after this?” Trinity asked, wanting to make sure.
“No, you shouldn't, but in case you did, you know how to reach us,” Dean said, smiling.
The young woman nodded solemnly to show her understanding, but her eyes were amused. Then she stepped closer, and kissed him on the cheek. Dean was touched, but let the moment passed, and with another short wave both siblings turned to walk towards George and Sam. Dean followed, looking toward George and his brother. Now George was talking, and Sam was the one listening. But as the children reached them, their attentions shifted and after a handshake each from Skylar and Trinity, Sam was striding towards him, George on his heels.
As soon as they were within touching distance, George held out a hand for Dean to shake.
"Thanks for all that you've done for my family."
“Thanks for keeping the police off our tail,” Dean replied. George and his children stuck to the story they had agreed on, and left the Winchesters out of it. The police were still investigating, but George had assured them it wouldn't pose a problem.
“That's the least we can do, after you saved our lives.”
"It's what we do, saving people." Dean repeated what he felt to be the tenth and hopefully the last time. He was becoming uncomfortable with all the thanking. Besides, the money was how he could convey his thanks. Dean was wondering how to bring up that topic.
The head of the Frances family seemed to be reading his thoughts. "Sam has your pay." He tilted his head to the brother in question. "It's all in cash, and I've included a little extra for you."
Dean grinned wider. "That's perfect. We'd best be going now."
"Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope we never see you again."
Sam laughed. "You have our number, just in case."
"Just in case." With that, George waved his goodbye and started back to the front door.
The Winchesters slammed the doors of the Impala at the same time, the noise making Dean ridiculously pleased for no good reason. He started the car, grinned at the purr of the engine, and looked over to Sam lounging on the shotgun seat.
"What were you talking to George so intently about?"
Sam met his eyes, and said, “I was sharing our theory that she might have cursed the land so that nothing can grow on it. I found a spell in the book for that purpose, and also a way to break it. I went to the garden while you were getting the Impala out.”
Dean nodded, turning his eyes back on the road. “And? Did you manage to break it?”
“Yeah. The land should be back to normal now.”
“Awesome.”
A pocket full of cash, an open road, one case solved, another waiting and a wake of laughter thrown to the wind, following the roar of the Impala. It really couldn't get any better that that.
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