Disclaimer: You know the drill, peeps.
Authors Note: Damn, this is even later than the last one…sorry.
Summary: It should've been a run of the mill hunt: pissed off, revenge seeking spirit. But when the tables are turned, and Sam finds himself the target of a deranged ghost, things take a far more sinister turn...
December 3rd, 2004
Dean had been a good big brother; he'd given Sammy two days of rest and relaxation. But the restlessness that was a part of him was stirring; he felt the need to leave, and leave now.
He was positive that the well meaning doc wouldn't let Sam out of the hospital yet; feeling like a criminal, he slipped evasively through the hall, pressing himself against corners James Bond style. It was almost 2 AM, and a slow night, but every now and then, a nurse would hurry past, or the occasional distraught spouse.
Moving the creaky door as slowly as possible, he let himself into Sam's hospital room; Sammy was sitting bolt upright in bed, eyes wide. Dean smiled absentmindedly to see his brother so alert; Sam scowled.
"Man, what the hell are you doing here? It's way past visiting hours," Sam quipped, swinging his long legs out of bed.
"We're goin', we've spent too long here," Dean whispered, ducking down awkwardly as a nurse trotted past the window. Sam snorted. "Here ya go, Sally—" Sam had so many series of stitches across his face that he looked like a ragdoll "—I brought you some clothes."
He turned his back as Sam changed awkwardly, and together they slipped out of the hospital. They were stopped once, by a pretty, bespeckled brunette, who wanted to know where Sam's scars had came from; Dean skimmed everything over with an obviously fake story about a bear attack, but other than that, their Mission Impossible-esque escape went smoothly.
With Sam asleep in the passenger's seat, Dean did something he had never done before: he turned the music off.
Glaringly loud in the sudden silence, his cell phone rang. Dean jumped about a mile, swore violently, and picked up the bouncing, wailing phone. Willing his pulse to go down, he answered the phone.
A female voice, loud and panicky, came through.
"Dean—Dean, your dad's voicemail said to call—something's happening, my friends are dying, and I don't know what—"
Thoroughly taken aback, he wrinkled his eyebrows and held the phone away from his ear for a second.
"Whoa, easy—who is this?"
"Anna Lipowitz…your dad was a friend of my mom's—please! Help, it's coming!"
"Now? Is something coming now?" He asked hesitantly; Sam slumbered on in the passenger's seat.
"No, but it will!" She wailed, obviously terrified.
"Okay, okay. Where are you?"
"Paley, North Dakota. 355 Northwind Boulevard. Hurry!" She cried, and the call was dropped with a deafening screech.
Dean snapped the phone shut and dropped it. With a sigh and a glance at Sam, he swung the Impala around.
"Anna Lipowitz, here we fucking come," he grumbled.
I hope this ending (was it an ending? XD) didn't disappoint!
sexybeast: Thanks! I would've cried, too…XD. As you can probably see, this isn't a lead up to Til Death Do Us Part…muaha.
Xdaisy chainX: Ooh, good! That was meant to be comedic, I could just picture that in my head. I hope this wasn't TOO late…
Ghostwriter: No problem, that's what held this one up!
sammysgurl: Thanks so much! I'm SO happy you like it!
Spuffyshipper: Oh, I get that too…XD. I read anything I can get my hands on. Glad this grabbed you!
Anamalia-fear: Merci! I do plan to do the hell thing soon.