(Untitled)

[hector_aframian]

Dean is Over It.

Nebraska and the Roadhouse cannot come soon enough.

Rachel's getting increasingly more annoying, and Dean's starting to wonder if travelling on his own would be better.

Anything would be better that this, for sure.

... although possibly not, he thinks, stamping on the brakes hard as they cross the border into Kansas and a

Comments

[amazonofthe21st]

Rachel gasps, hands out against the dashboard, turning sharply to see where the figure went.

"Oh my god, wait, she's not on the road, she must be stuck under the car!"

[amazonofthe21st]

"Oh right, I forgot how much you hate help," Rachel snarls, but it's half-hearted at best. She side steps a patch of ice in her flip-flops and meets Dean at the head of the car to walk toward the soft crying spirit.

"What do they usually want?"

[hector_aframian]

"Us dead," Dean says, without any particular emotion. Eyes forward, he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to her without looking.

"Sometimes they just wanna know why. I'm hopin' that's the case."

The woman doesn't look friendly. But then, nobody so obviously dead could look very friendly. She's corpse-mottled-white with sunken eyes, neck twisted in a way that nothing living could mimic, and her white dress is stained with blood and grime and filth. Her feet are bare.

Dean yawns.

[amazonofthe21st]

She looks over when he offers the jacket, frowning. He's changing the rules again.

This time, though, she's too damn cold to question it.

"Anything to tell just from looking at her?" Rachel's seen her friends turn into cockroaches, a walking corpse isn't turning her stomach just yet. "Should I be morphing?"

[hector_aframian]

"You're not gonna be able to hit her any more with a gorilla-arm than with your own," Dean says flatly. "Just -- be quiet and try not to do anything dumb."

The ghost is still now, watching from sunken eyes, flickering occasionally. Beneath her feet the ground is white with the frost.

One hand is holding a small but lethal-looking knife.

[amazonofthe21st]

Well, that's no good. Though Rachel's somewhat more confident to note that the ghost's arms are even thinner than her own. How likely can it be that she'll get an attack over on either her or Dean?

"So we're just going to keep walking until she flips out?"

[hector_aframian]

"Basically, yeah. Ghosts never do anythin' without a reason. If she can't attack us till we're in a certain location, that means there's somethin' important about that spot. So we gotta find out what spot it is."

[amazonofthe21st]

"Using us as bait." It's a soft comment, more to herself than to him.

(it might be a little approving, too)

With Dean's jacket on, she crosses her arms tight around herself, eyes steady on the spirit as they approach her.

[hector_aframian]

"Yeah. Sorry." He doesn't sound particularly apologetic.

The spirit is watching them, flickering and hazy, and by the time they're close enough to make out the pattern of gashes in her neck, they can also see the look in her eyes -- pure cold rage.

"Hey, there," Dean says, quietly. "Can we help you?"

In answer she lifts her knife, lips twisting in a snarl -- and in another flicker of focus she's on top of them.

[amazonofthe21st]

Rachel doesn't think - not about her size and strength, not about spirits, not about anything.

Just launches straight at the thing to tackle her off of Dean.

...of course, spirits, as a general rule, are discorporeal. Rachel hits snow and rolls, skidding to a stop and sending a glare back to Dean who's...

No longer being straddled by a skinny, angry ghost.

"What the hell was that?!"

[hector_aframian]

"A spirit," Dean says, rolling to his side and coughing. The spirit's knife missed him, but there's a large scorched handprint in the centre of his shirt, and dents where her fingers dug in.

"Duh."

[amazonofthe21st]

"It hit you, why couldn't I hit it?!" Rachel demands, getting to her feet. She's angry and glaring but not at him, at the situation.

Besides, she's crouching beside him after a moment, giving a glance around the road before reaching to pick at his shirt. "It burned you?"

[hector_aframian]

"Hands off," Dean snaps, pushing her hand away and getting to his feet. "Get the shotgun. Keep your eyes open. I'm gonna see if I can find anything."

[amazonofthe21st]

Rocking back, Rachel gives him a final glare before getting to her feet after him. The shotgun gets lifted and shifted - a couple of times. It's a far cry from her six-shooter.

Doesn't stop her from getting a good grip on the gun and scanning the area. "What good is a gun going to do on it?"

[hector_aframian]

"It's loaded with rock salt," Dean explains absently, crouching by the side of the road and brushing at the dirt, frowning.

She didn't need any more explanation than that, did she?

[amazonofthe21st]

Actually, no. He already said burning with salt had to do with something, so there's no reason why this shouldn't work.

At this point, with ice burns on her legs from tackling nothing at all, she'll take what she can get.

"What are you looking for?"