Title: It Starts With Goodbye (3/13)
Characters: Dean, Sam, Jess, Bobby, OFC
Pairing: Sam/Jess, Dean/OFC
Spoilers: Set in the back end of season two (pre-finale) so anything before that is fair game.
Summary: Dean would do anything to make Sam happy but what would Sam let him give up? How far can you push brotherly love before you have to be selfish for your own sake?
Previous Chapters: Pt 1 I Pt 2
Even the most normal and mundane building could look creepy in the dark of night, particularly when it was a building that was ordinarily so full of life during the day. Deserted and silent, such places never felt right and they could make even the hardiest of souls feel uneasy. Izzy had gotten used to those feelings over time but it didn’t mean that she liked them.
As Dean picked the lock, disabled the alarm and opened the door for them to enter, she glanced across at Sam, wondering what it must be like for him to walk down familiar paths and through familiar buildings, all seeming like they belonged to a different him in a different world. Poor guy was clearly going through it and the sooner they got out of here the better. She just hoped that it turned out that the spirit wasn’t Jessica after all. Some people would probably think that spirits were good things, that it meant you hadn’t really lost someone you loved after all. But she knew better. Spirits were trapped, afraid and unhappy and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone she cared about. She was pretty certain that Sam felt the same way.
Wendy had been reluctant to enter the building at first and that hadn’t helped Dean’s distain for her. After some gentle prodding on Izzy’s part and something akin to an interrogation on Dean’s, Wendy had admitted that she and her friends had been playing with Ouija boards and the like in a classroom on the third floor. Or as Dean bluntly put it, being dumbasses and messing with shit they didn’t understand. She should have expected some sort of trouble he’d pointed out and she’d brought this on herself by being an idiot. Izzy knew that it wasn’t as if he was irritated enough by the circumstances to refuse to help the girl. That just wasn’t in his nature. But he would certain bitch about it plenty so that she was clear that it was all her fault and that she was damn lucky they’d come along.
“You said you’ve been hearing voices,” Izzy prompted as they walked, trying to focus the jittery girl.
Wendy nodded, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears as her eyes darted from side to side, obviously expecting something to jump out at her at any moment.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice dry and cracked, “Whenever I’m in class. At first I thought it was some of the others messing around but I was here late last week, just me, working on a report and I kept hearing it.”
“What about the voice? What do you hear?”
“It’s a woman. She keeps saying the same thing.”
When no other information was forthcoming Izzy was forced to ask the obvious question, just about keeping her patience.
“And what’s that?”
“Help. She was asking for help.”
Dean looked at a suddenly much tenser Sam.
“Doesn’t mean it’s her,” he reminded him firmly. He needed Sam focused right now. He didn’t need that big brain of his running through horrible possibilities and guilt ridden scenarios.
“Doesn’t mean it’s who?” Wendy asked with a curious frown, her fear momentarily forgotten in the face of something that must have sounded rather suspicious to her.
Izzy hurriedly continued, sure that neither brother would appreciate having to explain.
“Why do you think she needs help?”
“I don’t know,” Wendy shrugged, looking at Izzy as though she couldn’t understand why she was asking her, “I guess because she’s trapped here or something.”
“And why do you think she’s asked you and not the others you were with?”
“I don’t know,” Wendy repeated again.
“Oh yeah”, Dean said scornfully, “You’re a real font of information.”
Izzy glared him into silence. To be honest she could understand his frustration and wasn’t much fonder of the girl than he was, but they needed her for now. Years of growing up in a shop had taught her how to play nice when necessary.
“Wendy, where did you first encounter the spirit?”
That was Sam, speaking up at last, his tone even and professional. Izzy guessed that was his way of getting through it – treat it like any other job, get it done and get the hell out of there.
“Through here actually,” Wendy replied, finally leading them to a nondescript class room after they’d gone up several flights of stairs, “We were here when we did it. We didn’t think it was real, you know. We’d used it a dozen times before and nothing had happened.”
She was shaking her head as though she couldn’t quite believe it was happening. She was understandably nervous but Dean remained unsympathetic.
“Yeah life’s a bitch like that,” he pointed out tersely.
People like her from paranormal societies and the like were a pet hate of his. None of them had any real clue about what they were doing. Most thought it was some kind of game and many wouldn’t know what a ghost was if one came up and bit them on the ass. Not that ghosts usually did that of course but he’d seen weirder stuff. On the rare occasion that they actually did encounter something real they always freaked and it was left to guys like him to come and bail them out. Like he didn’t already have enough to do. Like weren’t already enough nasty things out there without dumbasses calling in extra ones.
No, all in all, not his favourite bunch of people.
“The Ouija board must have attracted a stray spirit, right?” Izzy pointed out, looking at Sam for confirmation, “I mean no one actually died in here as far as we know so, it must just be a random latch on. An opportunist trying to get through.”
“Yeah, maybe...” he said evasively, obviously not convinced by her very clear attempt to persuade him that this ghost could be just about anyone.
Dean turned to Izzy, all business, “Anything?”
She frowned a little as she tried to concentrate. It was hard to describe what she felt when she felt it. Sometimes they were emotions, usually negative ones; anger, fear, sadness, they were the most common. If it was a demon she often felt it like a disturbance inside her, an overwhelming sense that something was just wrong. Sometimes though all she felt was a presence, a certainty that they were not alone. Now she could feel a hint of that, like eyes watching her in the darkness but it was fleeting and hard to pinpoint.
“I’m not sure. I think there’s something but...it’s really confused,” she said describing it best she could.
“Maybe it’s in another class room nearby,” Sam suggested, as ever thinking ahead, “We should go check them out.”
“Okay,” Dean agreed with a nod, “I’ll stay here and do a scan with the EMF meter, see if there’s anything Radar here missed.”
“Hey,” Izzy admonished slightly, both at the name and the mild slight but he just smiled at her in an annoying self assured manner, knowing that she wasn’t really cross.
As Dean quickly picked the lock of and then entered the adjoining office, scanner at the ready, Izzy and Sam walked towards the door. Izzy beckoned Wendy to follow them, deciding that leaving her with Dean wasn’t really such a good idea else they might just end up with another ghost to deal with.
They were within yards of the door when it slammed firmly shut. She shared a concerned look with Sam.
“Trouble?”Dean asked immediately coming out of the office again, alerted by the noise.
“Probably,” Izzy admitted.
“Definitely,” Sam concluded as he tried the door, twisting the handle and pulling with all his might yet finding it wouldn’t budge.
“What’s happening?” Wendy asked, her voice shaking slightly with increasing nerves.
“Just stay with me, okay” Izzy ordered gently, pushing the other woman slightly behind her, getting her out of her way as much as shielding her whilst she and the Winchester boys looked cautiously around the room.
A violent buzzing emanated from the EMF meter in Dean’s hand and he held it up, looking a little wide eyed at the sudden spike in the reading.
“Oh this is not good...” he muttered apprehensively.
Sam cried out in pain, cursing loudly as he pulled his hand sharply back from the door handle he had still been holding, swinging it in the air. Izzy heard the slight hissing of suddenly hot flesh and knew what had happened – the energy being poured into the door handle had rapidly heated it, burning Sam’s unfortunately placed hand in the process.
Sam tucked his hand under his arm, grimacing slightly as he took a few steps towards Dean and looked at the meter himself.
“No,” he agreed, “Not good.”
Izzy had to agree with that conclusion too when she just about managed to duck as one of the small, single study tables came suddenly and violently flying in her general direction. Another soon followed and Izzy reached up and pulled a stunned Wendy down by a handful of jumper moments before she was floored by it. She quickly turned a larger table on its side and sheltered behind it, half dragging Wendy to relative safety.
Sam and Dean hit the deck too as more furniture flew sharply across the room.
The feeling Izzy had felt before was magnified tenfold now. There was definitely something here and it was not in the best of moods. She cautiously glanced around the edge of the table, but could see nothing, certainly no angry ghost bearing down on them which they could fire at. That made things a bit awkward really. Fighting a simple presence was not easy.
“We have to get out of here!” she called across to the boys, having to shout to be heard over the sound of smashing furniture.
“No shit!” Dean hollered back, clearly not impressed by her deductive skills as a very large book flew past his ear.
“This thing’s not angry,” Izzy explained hurriedly, trying to get her point across, “It’s confused. It doesn’t know what it’s doing and it’s not going to stop.”
A confused spirit may not be trying to hurt them but it was just as capable of doing so as an angry one. In fact they were sometimes even more dangerous as they panicked, not knowing what they were doing and things got out of control. Sitting there and just hoping that it didn’t hit you with something was not the best course of action.
Dean clambered his way along the floor to his dropped bag, keeping as low as possible as he hurriedly unzipped it and looked inside for something he could use to get the doors open.
Suddenly there was some kind of a shock wave, intense enough to make Izzy feel like her head was momentarily about to explode. Fortunately the only thing that actually did were the windows which imploded as the wave travelled along them, raining glass on them as they were all forced to hunker down on the floor for protection. It might have actually helped them get out of there if they weren’t on the third floor.
Beside her, Wendy screamed, painfully loud in her ear.
“What do we do?!” she asked, almost hysterical.
“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”
Izzy knew her reassurances couldn’t have been very reassuring though from the look on the other woman’s face.
She turned back momentarily to see what Dean was doing, wondering if she could help, but she had barely made him out in the dark room before she felt something burning into her upper arm. She yelped with surprised pain, too shocked to stop Wendy grabbing her hand and slicing it with a small scalpel, her upper arm still feeling like it was sizzling where the other woman gripped it. Wendy held a tiny bottle in her hand and smashed it straight into Izzy’s palm, the liquid seeping into the fresh cut, mixing with her blood.
“I’m so sorry,” Wendy said her voice trembling with a mixture of tears, fear and guilt, “But she's gonna try to take me and I can’t...“
She trailed off, shaking her head in what looked like apology.
Izzy’s last thought before some strong force slammed into the back of her was ‘oh my god, what have you done?’
In truth she already knew but there was no time to do anything about it.