Running From Insanity

13. Possess Me Twice, Kill the Winchesters

Back in the crappy motel room, Dean was taking a shower while Sam and I wondered aloud about our next move. Dean—still in the shower, mind you—started to participate in the conversation as well. Since Dean wanted info, Sam had moved to sit on the bed closest to the shower and was reading a 'photocopy' of a newspaper. Whatever photocopy was, it sounded complicated. 

"So, besides Whiteman's fiancee," Sam started, his head tilted towards the open bathroom door, "Dexter O'Connell was also convicted of killing a bunch of hookers who worked at the brothel. He escaped before they could hang him. But then he returned to the house, where he was found shot to death." 

"What the actual hell?" I asked, staring at the newspaper. "Why would he escape death, then to running back to it?" 

"I don't know," Dean answered, his voice slightly muffled from the water colliding with the ground. "Add that to a list of things I don't know." 

"Ditto," I said. 

"So, what's the next move?" 

Just as Sam said that the shower's water supply shut off. I heard the squeal of metal on metal as the curtain opened. Everything became silent. 

"Sam?"

"What?" 

"Tell me you wrote that." My eyes met Sam's in a wild panic. We rose simultaneously and hurried into the bathroom. Luckily, Dean's lower half was covered by a towel. 

"Uh... No. No, I didn't," Sam replied, his eyes slightly bugging. 

"Melinda. This better be a prank," Dean growled, his eyes boring into me. 

My hands jabbed into the air, mocking a surrender. "Not me! Ask Sam!" 

"Well, then, who's there?!" Dean barked at the mirror, causing me to jump. No reply. "I said, who's there?!" More forceful this time. 

The faucet to the sink turned and steam started to rise. I pointed to it and backed into Sam's chest. "That's not funny, Dean! That's not funny at all!" 

"How could it be me, Melinda?" he snapped. 

A sloppy 'B' then an 'o' appeared on the steam covered mirror. Dean's mouth flew open and Sam's eyes slightly glazed over.

"Bobby?" Dean whispered, staring at the mirror. 

Two b's and a 'y' appeared next. It was Bobby, whoever Bobby was. The person Garth said was following Sam and Dean. His name was Bobby. 

I remembered the EMF, the cold chills I would get, and how the curtains would sometimes shimmy when there was no air blowing. That was why I had joined Garth's cause. It all made so much sense. But now I was scared. Having a ghost actually follow you was creepy to think about; especially when your first case dealt with ghosts. 

"This whole time, we've been trying to talk ourselves out of it," Dean sighed, his eyes holding disbelief. "He's been—what's he doing here?"

Looking down from the creep show of the mirror, I noticed Dean's flask. Wow, guy really does bring it everywhere. Wait a minute... I snatched the flask from the sink and jabbed it in Dean's face. 

"Was this his?" I asked, my voice full of ice. His eyes burst into realization, then he snatched the flask from my grip.

"We got to get back to that house, stat!" 

We practically ran out of the motel room and straight to the car. I slid into the back while Sam and Dean ran to the front seats. Now, Dean is a reckless driver but he's damn good under pressure. We avoided cars and sped down abandon roads as we drove back to that forsaken house at night. Once we got there many minutes later, we immediately went to the trunk.