Looks Like Loss

Thank you to everyone who stuck with this little story and especially those who took the time to send a note or two.

To you poor souls who don't get to see the season premiere tomorrow… You have my sincerest sympathies. You feel like flying over, I have a guest room…

Chapter Seven


Dean settled more comfortably into the driver's seat as they passed the city limits sign. "Dude, I'm not sure at what point we became ghost shrinks, but this is really starting to annoy me," he sighed.

"What would you suggest?" Sam asked.

"I'd suggest you find me something to shoot. And soon," Dean answered.

"Is that your answer to everything?"

"Uhhh… Let me think." Dean raised a hand and started counting off on his fingers. "Senseless violence. Loud music. Girls. Cars. Violence with a purpose."

"You forgot pool," Sam observed.

"It does have benefits," Dean grinned. "Sometimes it leads to senseless violence."

The Pruetts had seen them off, waving from the curb as Sam and Dean drove away. After Mrs. Martin had vanished, the four men had spent the rest of the night digging around the trees that had burned and had eventually found Agatha's grave. Apparently the trees catching fire had been enough to stir the ghost back to life after years of dormancy. Agatha hadn't liked her property being damaged. She in turn had stirred the other ghosts on the property.

A trip to the emergency room had followed. Since the Sheriff had accompanied them, no one had questioned them about what looked like bullet wounds. Thankfully, nothing seemed irreparable. The doctor was a fast learner too. He hadn't even looked surprised when they'd both refused to be admitted. After that, Sam and Dean had returned to Ravenwood and had happily slept through the rest of the day and the following night.

The Sheriff had assured them he could deal with any residual problems if there were any, though his men said the woods had been quiet while they slept. If nothing else, Agatha had been salted and burned. She wouldn't be killing any more property owners.

Sam was staring at him and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I heard what you said to Mrs. Martin."

"Yeah… well you were standing right there. Unless you're deaf, I'd think that would be a given," Dean snorted.

"It was… Just… I mean, I…"

"Look, Sam… I've got issues, you've got issues. We've all got issues. It's part of life," Dean said in exasperation.

"I just wanted you to know I was listening," Sam said.

Dean nodded. He cast a sidelong glance at his brother. Sam didn't just mean he had heard. He had been listening. He'd heard more than the words.

Dean suddenly smiled. "I gotta admit… I always liked Melanie better than Scarlett."

"Huh?"

"Mrs. Martin and Agatha… That chick was kinda like Scarlett on acid," he snorted. "The land… blah, blah, blah…"

Sam just shook his head, but then a broad grin spread across his face. "You should have seen your face when you realized Mr. Pruett was holding your shotgun."

"Yeah! Letting some random dude go through our weapons stash! What were you thinking?" Dean asked, horrified all over again. Letting some moron get his hands on Marigold. His Marigold.

Sam started laughing, great belly laughs. He grabbed his injured side, but couldn't stop laughing. "Your jaw dropped open and you looked like someone had just set the car on fire. It was priceless. You were so freaked out, you almost called her Marigold. Right there in front of everybody!" He started laughing even harder.

Dean slammed on the brakes and stopped right in the middle of the road. The car behind him screeched to a halt as it too locked up its brakes and then honked its horn as it went around them.

"You knew?"

Sam started laughing so hard, he couldn't breathe. He slapped his knee, bent over wheezing.

"YOU KNEW?"

"Stop," Sam begged, gasping for breath. "My side. I can't take anymore."

"You… How did you find out?" Dean demanded. He stepped on the accelerator and moved back into the flow of traffic when another car honked as it went around them.

Sam snorted, still laughing. "Dude… Either you have more problems than I know about, or you talk to that shotgun."

"Yeah, but…"

"Dean, we spend every day together. All day, every day. Marigold isn't a name you're likely to overlook." Sam took a deep breath, though he was still grinning broadly.

"How long have you known?" Dean asked worriedly.

His brother started laughing again, perilously close to a giggle. "You probably named the car, too."

Dean studiously kept his eyes looking forward, like the view was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

"You didn't!" Sam said wide-eyed. "You named the car?"

Dean barely glanced at him, but remained silent.

"You named the car."

"Doesn't matter how many times you say it. I'm still not gonna answer."

Sam started laughing again, holding his side.

"Dude, you keep laughing and I'm gonna have to shoot you myself. I'm pretty sure I owe you one," Dean said, pulling out the 'glare of death.'

Sam pursed his lips to try and stop and finally succeeded in tailing off to only a few errant chuckles. "So what do we do now?" he asked.

"Well, I'm sure not going back to freaking Tara," Dean said.

"North then?"

"Dude, with our luck, we could go all the way to Alaska and we'd still manage to find some pissed off Eskimo chick who'd been pushed out on an ice flow," Dean observed.

"So where does that leave?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"How about Disneyland," Dean nodded. "I'm pretty sure they forbid people to die on the property."

"Good idea," Sam said and started laughing again. "I'm sure Marigold will love it. She can play with the rest of the kiddies."


Thus ends this little quintet of stories… Thanks again for reading. Hope you enjoyed 'em.