I actually scared the hell out of myself writing parts of this. Hahaha, guess that's what I get for reading a Poe book and writing til three in the morning. I admit, I like this. I hope it's clearly depicted and ya'll see it the way I do. Hope ya likey!:D


"Heaven's gates won't open up for me. With these broken wings I'm fallin'."


Something didn't feel right. The same something that hadn't felt right for weeks. I had just moved into that house and only needed to get used to it, that's all. It was an old house, problems were naturally expected...but not this. This was something different. The flickering lights: faulty wiring. Creaking noises: the house settling on its foundation. The scratching: some critter living in the walls of the house. All could be explained except this. It was a feeling that started by making the hairs on the back of my neck stand at alert then traveled in a chill down my spine. And I knew it wasn't, and it never is, natural for a room to change temperature that drastically.

I convinced myself I didn't see things out of the corner of my eye. Convinced myself I didn't hear voices every now and then. I was just being paranoid, nothing more. It happens to the best of us, right? Well, that's what I thought too...never again though. Any irrational or skeptical thoughts I may have had about the paranormal were silenced the night that I lost all reason to doubt that there are things out there that no one can explain.

Ironically enough, it happened the night of October 31st; Halloween. I didn't get any trick or treaters and I didn't dress up in a slutty costume and go out to drink myself into a vodka-induced coma. Having just moved, I had not made any friends with whom I might party with anyway. So it was just me that night; alone with my new, old house.

I watched a few bad, late-night Halloween special horror movies (How many tries does it take to kill that Michael Myers bastard anyway?) and went to bed. I admit I was on edge as I tiptoed up the stairs and down the dark hallway, and the ominous holiday didn't help either. I turned off the lights in my room and snuggled up in my bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin.

I lay in the dark, eyes closed for what seemed like hours, not able to catch any Z's. I remained for awhile, willing myself to drift off and be lost to a different world where your own house doesn't give you the creeps and you're not forced to burry your face in your blanket like a five year old girl; something I had not been for twenty years. Finally my consciousness wavered and sleep started to set in. I shivered and pulled the covers around me tighter. Chills continued through my body, pulling me completely back from the brink of sleep. Why the hell was it so cold?

That's when I heard the slow creak of old floorboards. My breathing stopped, my shivering along with it. My ears strained, silently hoping that they would hear nothing else and that the sound was just a creation of my own imagination. A moment later, a second creak followed. My eyes opened wide and stared blankly into the darkness before them. My heart rate steadily rose; it felt cold as it beat wildly within my chest. The creaks continued. I couldn't hear the actual falls of them, but it sounded like the floorboards were whining under the weight of footsteps. Each creak dragged out slowly and sounded amplified against the other ways quiet house. The unheard footsteps were coming closer to my bed. I began shaking again; not from the extremely icy temperature of the room, but from the cold fear that gripped me in its vice-like hold.

The floor creaked right at the edge of my bed, causing me to jump a little, then there was quiet; a crushing, deafening silence. My breath, coming quickly and in shaky spouts, was the only sound to penetrate the darkness. Who was standing there at the edge of my bed? Whoever it was, they needed to go away.

Though terrified, I decided that surprise and confrontation would be the best course of action. Oh what I would have given for a large knife or gun stowed under my pillow at that moment. Slowly and carefully building my courage, I prepared to make my move. Shooting myself up right in bed, I turned to face whoever stood at my back.

"Go away!" I demanded forcefully. But I found myself looking at nothing; nothing stood where it should have been. I looked around wildly for who was playing this prank on me when I became aware of breathing very close to my ear. My stomach twisted and jumped and my heart pounded about. I slowly moved my head towards the sound. I froze, barely able to take in the sharp gasp that broke from my lips.

A dark haired woman, pale as pure snow, stared at me; her face inches from mine. Her eyes were wide and snake-like with a deep shade of red rimming her slitted irises. Her neck bent at an unnatural angle as the head upon it cocked to the side. She appeared to be almost transparent and giving off a faint glow. I let out a shaky exhale; my breath clashing with the icy air and forming a fog before me. The woman just looked at me in a wide, blank stare. I, frozen at the sight of this phantasm, could only stare back.

The woman parted her thin, pale lips to reveal a gaping blackness within her mouth.

"Get out of my house!"

Her voice had an inhuman quality. It was much too deep for her gender and it came out in a gravely growl that seemed to double and echo back against itself. When I didn't move, God help me if I had been able to I would have, the woman scowled and stood up to her full height, her movements jerky and not of this world. Her bones made sickly cracking noises with each movement. As she looked down at me, the red rimming her irises spread out across the whites of her eyes. The crimson continued to creep out of the sockets and snake over the woman's features, engulfing her face like a mask.

I screamed, finally finding the voice that fear had stolen from me. The ghostly figure lunged at me and knocked me off the bed. I lay sprawled on the floor facedown. I didn't have time to recover before I felt icy holds on my ankles. I was dragged across the floor then was picked up by an invisible force and thrown headfirst into a wall. I fell heavily to the floor, stars dancing darkly before my eyes as my head swam dangerously and a strange ringing echoed through my ears.

I faintly heard the sound of running footsteps and light stabbed at my eyes. A blast of gunfire would have shocked me if I hadn't been seconds from unconsciousness. I heard a man's deep voice yell something then I felt strong arms wrap around my shoulders and under my knees. I was aware of being lifted from my crumpled position on the floor into the arms of whoever this person was. I opened my eyes just long enough to blurrily see a man standing before the ghostly woman. He lifted a shotgun and fired; the apparition suddenly disappeared in a swish of pale smoke. I was rushed from the room before I had time to be confused.

It was a man; a man was carrying me down the stairs. My head rested against his chest, my face nestled gently into his neck. I felt a cold rush of night air and the man stopped. He shook me lightly.

"Hey, are you ok?"

His voice was low and soothing. I pried my eyes open and looked up at him. His face danced in and out of focus as the stars over head seemed to spin. I realized that my collision with the wall must have given me a pretty nasty head injury.

"I-I don't..." I started.

The man's face came more into focus. Kind blue-green eyes looked worriedly down at me. His arms cradled around me tightly, giving me a strong sense of safety and comfort. He lowered me carefully to the ground, keeping an arm around my shoulders and swept a hand over the side of my forehead; it came away crimson. Was I bleeding?!

"What's going on?" I whimpered as my vision threatened to fade again. I gripped at the sleeve of his jacket.

"Hey, hey. It's alright. You're safe now, I gotcha."

My head was pounding and I felt warm tears in my eyes. The man smiled comfort down at me; I saw the shadow of dimples on either side of his mouth.

"What's your name?"

I blinked heavily, but was faintly relieved that I could remember the correct answer to his question.


He nodded. "I'm Sam."

"Sam?" I breathed out, feeling stupid for repeating what he had just said.

Sam smiled at me and nodded. I heard foot steps going over the porch and down stairs. Another figure towered over me; I could tell it was the man I had seen in the room. He kneeled next to me, opposite Sam. His intense looking features blurred together, but the green of his eyes stood out like stars on a moonless night.

"She alright?" I heard him ask Sam.

"A head injury. She's a bit loopy but I don't think there's any major damage."

The man put his hand gently to the apparent wound on my forehead.

"Did you take care of it?" Sam asked.

The man nodded. "Yeah. She won't be comin' back."

I blinked sleepily and furrowed my brows in confusion. "Wh-who?"

The man smiled. "There are other forces in this world and so on, your house is haunted by a bitch of a spirit. Well, was. Not anymore though."

I looked blankly up at the man. Perhaps my head injury was worse than I thought.

"We need to get her to a hospital." Sam looked up at the other man.

The man nodded. "Here, I'll take her."

I felt Sam maneuver my body into the man's arms. His hold was just as comforting as Sam's; warm, safe, strong. I felt him lift me up and start to walk.

"What's her name?" His voice sounded distant some how. Sam's answer was muffled.

"Angela? Can you hear me?" His voice floated through to me and I opened my eyes.

"Mmmwho are you?" I breathed quietly into the collar of his jacket, taking in the distinct smell of leather. I managed to make out a lopsided grin as I looked up at him.

"My name's Dean."

I mumbled out a sigh and draped my arm around his neck, curling my fingers under the fold of his collar. My eyes closed again and I started to drift off. The squeak of a car door reached my ears and I fell asleep. I recall vague details of what followed. I remember still feeling the warmth and safety of Dean's arms around me, the sound of Sam's voice, the gentle vibrations of Dean's reply that I felt as my head lay against his chest. All else is lost to space and time until I woke up in the hospital.


A female nurse came in to check on me and informed me that I'd been out for nearly a week. I had a concussion and a minor fracture in my skull, but she said I was healing nicely. I inquired about the two men who brought me here; Sam and Dean. The nurse looked at me, puzzled.

"You were brought here by uh..." She checked a paper on her clip board. "A Detective Morrison, and his partner Detective Densmore, hun."

I looked blankly at the nurse; that couldn't be right. The nurse smiled warmly and touched my arm.

"You took a pretty nasty hit to the head, sweetie. It's normal to be a little confused."

"Oh..." I looked down at my hands. "Thank you."

She smiled and left the room. I looked out the window. Confused? Yeah right. Those men weren't detectives. Hadn't the one, Dean, mentioned my house being haunted by a "Bitch of a ghost"? No detective would use that term, much less investigate a case that would require the use of it. Then again, I did have a head injury; maybe I was just making things up. I thought about it for a long time.

No head injury would conjure up the illusion of pure safety and comfort that I had felt in those men's arms though. Sam and Dean, those were their names and I wasn't making that up either. They had been there, they were real, and they saved my life. Yet no one seemed to remember them bringing me to the hospital. All whom I asked said that two detectives brought me to the ER saying that they had found me in the state I was in during an investigation. The nurse that I had spoken to earlier told me that the two detectives disappeared after my doctor told them that I would be fine.

If that was the case then who pulled me away from the evil that haunted my house? Who carried me to safety? Who spoke words of comfort? Had the two men I had encountered been servants of a higher power? My head continued to buzz with these and more unanswered questions much longer after I was released from the hospital.

I closed my eyes at the warmth of the light as it beamed through the window in my living room and fell onto the flush of my cheek. I knew I wasn't crazy, I had been rescued. Even still, that didn't explain the fact that all the strange occurrences in my house had ceased and never plagued me again. I looked up the history of my house, and it turns out there was a reason I got it for such a good price. All the previous residents before me had fled after being freaked out by strange occurrences that happened almost daily. Further research brought me to the information that a woman had been murdered there in the 1920's. Dean had said my house was haunted; guess he knew what he was talking about.

As I opened my eyes again, I smiled and settled my inner questionnaire with a final thought. Sam and Dean had helped me that night; I had no doubt about that. And either men or angels, I believe that they are still out there; doing their job and fighting the evil that many deny.


"Show me what it's like
To be the last one standing
And teach me wrong from right
And I'll show you what I can be
Say it for me, say it to me
And I'll leave this life behind me
Say it if it's worth saving me."


So there ya have it. I like the idea of the boys being thought of as angels 0: )

Just in case someone didn't know, detectives Morrison and Densmore refers to Jim Morrison and John Densmore from The Doors.

Hope ya'll enjoyed. I enjoyed writing it.

Reviews are like maple syrup and I'm a stack o' pancakes.